


Bound

by howlingmoonrise (TheDarkStoryteller)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Cock Rings, F/M, Light BDSM, NSFW, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkStoryteller/pseuds/howlingmoonrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy your shameless smut!  
> \--

It's driving him mad.

His vision is enfolded in darkness. Soul tries to move his eyelids, look around, but all he succeeds in doing is to make the fabric rustle against his lashes.

He is stuck. There are no restraints binding him, no ropes, no shackles - nothing, except for his own will.

There is movement to his left, and his head is quick to turn towards it even if he can't see anything at the moment. His meister's hand is cool on his forehead as she smoothes back his hair, lingering on the white strands as she shushes him. "You're being very good, Soul."

He wants to whimper. He wants to gasp, moan out her name desperately, fucking plead with her, but he has his order.

If he does, it's over.

The coolness of her skin travels across his face, brushing over his covered eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the contour of his lips, his jaw, down the slope of his neck. His Adam's apple bobs when her finger reaches it; she amuses herself with circling her fingertips around it. He can feel her watching him, looking for any reaction that might tell her if she's doing something really good or really badly.

He wonders what kind of expression he can make to tell her that he never wants her to stop.

There's something wet trailing down his chest, creating goosebumps as it goes. It swirls around his nipples until they feel painfully tight, traces down and dips into his bellybutton, circling the sensitive flesh of the skin just above his boxers. The muscles on his abdomen clench as a hot breath of air blows through the fabric, teasing the flesh beneath; then, cool air curls around it as she slides the garment off.

“Already this hard?” he can hear the smirk in her voice, the smugness and awe that overflow as their resonance thrums in the background. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of kinky stuff.” The otherwise I’d have done this much sooner is unspoken.

He can’t help it; with his sight impaired, all his other senses are working twice as hard to check up on her, to find her, to make sure she’s really there, really doing this. His skin feels unbearably sensitive, yearning and arching towards the lightest of touches she may gift him with.

There is a cold, liquid sensation descending on his dick; lube, he realizes, and wonders what exactly Maka is planning on doing. A snap and the sound of something being dropped floats in the nearly silent air, a string of low-voiced curses following.

Soul thinks amusedly that it’s just like Maka to become clumsy in a situation like this, and then he nearly loses it all when her hands return to his dick.

The base of his shaft feels tight, something adding in pressure to his already strained flesh. Maka’s arousal thrums deeply through their link, letting him know how much she is enjoying this, and it sends an electrical surge running down from his nipples towards his erection.

Somehow, this feels different. It’s tense, desperate, overwhelming - burning low in his belly, and there’s nothing he can do to relieve it. He yearns for her touch more than ever; every bit of his soul is reaching out for hers even as his physical body can not.

Her breath is wispy against his ear as she strokes his lips. Even with her voice as low as it is, he finds that he doesn’t need to strain to hear what she says.

“Do you know what this is?” she asks smoothly, though he can sense the underlying nervousness beneath. “You can nod yes or no.”

His throat feels dry; her fingertips dip the slightest bit into his mouth, just enough to brush the sharp tips of his teeth. He struggles to move his head side to side, knowing that it will dislodge her touch but needing to do it anyway - it’s a request, an order, and he’ll travel to the farthest corners of the world to oblige his meister.

Her lips brush against the flesh of his ear as they curl into another wicked smile; Soul trembles. “Are you sure?” Soul shakes his head again. “Such an innocent boy,” she teases. Like she’s one to talk, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare utter a word, a sound. She warned him well enough about what’ll happen if he doesn’t follow her orders. “Well, I’ll tell you.”

Then, her presence by his side is gone again. He searches her out with all the senses he’s got left, but she’s not there, and it almost makes him cry out in frustration.

Patient, he tells himself. Be patient.

Her hands are grasping his dick, and before he realizes what she’s doing, Maka gives him her answer. “This, my dearest weapon, is a cock ring.”

His muscles clench tightly as she squeezes the base lightly, playing along the lines of the veins until her fingertips reach the ring she has decided to gift him with. It’s different from what he’s used to - he hasn’t yet decided whether he likes it or not, but from the nervous delight in his meister’s soul, Soul can guess that it’s probably going to be a positive reaction.

The touch leaves, and his ears catch a whisper of clothing hitting the ground. His dick strains against the ring binding him, and he wants to gasp at the feeling, but he knows he’s not allowed to.

The bed dips on either side of him; warmth radiates from her body, tantalizingly close.

“Now,” Maka whispers. “We can’t use this for too long, but let’s make a deal: if you manage not to make a sound until I take the ring off--”

He’s already nodding before she finishes the sentence. Soul knows how his meister’s mind works. The reward system isn’t a new thing for the two of them - even if the situations it had been used in before weren’t quite like this one. But something like his favourite dessert after passing an exam with a good grade doesn’t measure up to this at all.

There are nails scratching at his chest; his skin burns underneath them. He barely catches a groan before it escapes his mouth. “Bad scythe,” she scolds. “I didn’t even finish talking, and there you were, already agreeing.”

She’s going to make him pay for interrupting her, he realises. His gut churns with dread and excitement, though he is all too aware that his suffering will be extended for a little while longer. Even when his mouth is shut tight and his limbs are locked in place via sheer willpower, he manages to fuck things up for himself anyway.

Maka is a sadist, he’s sure. Her soul glows with glee as she adjusts herself on top of him, never touching him, and he can envision her snapping her bra off even as his eyes are shut. He plays the scene in his head once, twice, a hundred times as he hears the piece of clothing hitting the ground.

“Ready?” she whispers, more to herself than him, and lowers herself on top of his dick.

His teeth break the skin of his bottom lip, drawing out tiny beads of blood as he feels the wet silk of her panties brushing his oversensitive skin. Her breathing is heavy, yet far more controlled than his when she lowers herself onto him - Soul isn’t sure if he’ll survive the evening, but at least he’s pretty sure it’ll be worth it.

Her tongue traces his bottom lip, wiping away the blood even as he refuses to open his mouth. Her wetness is overwhelming, the soaked fabric sticking to his heated skin just enough to make it one degree too far for him to handle while sane; his fists are clenched tight, never moving from the place she had ordered him to keep them. Maka’s fingers travel towards them, covering his knuckles and caressing them even as she performs the most pleasurable of tortures on him.

“Are you going to behave?” she asks, and the urge to say yes, yes, please, just take me nearly conquers him - it’d make him lose it all tonight if the words ever slipped past his lips, proving him to be disobedient, unworthy, and he knows he can do better.

He nods, eyes half-lidded under the blindfold as his vision yearns to catch sight of his meister. He can feel her smile in his soul, brilliant and devious and shy as she plays her part.

“Good boy,” she coos, but her warmth leaves him. Soul seriously feels like crying as the moments go by and she doesn’t return to him - then, there is something silky sliding across his chest, creating goosebumps as it goes. There is a hint of moisture marking his track, and in a moment of clarity he realizes what it is.

Maka, he wants to moan, but he settles for arching his chest just slightly. His message seems to get through to his meister; there are nimble fingers pinching and pulling at his nipples, nails tracing the outlines of his scar, thighs encasing his in their middle. Her center radiates heat, inviting him in if he just bothers to give a little push, align himself just so and buck his hips against hers. He resists the impulse, but his hips twitch the slightest bit, regardless - he hopes she doesn’t notice, but she’s Maka, so she does.

“Eager, are we?” Her teeth close gently on his earlobe; his member jumps, searching for its counterpart even though he knows he has to keep still. Maka laughs, and it’s a raspy, delighted sound that tells him that she’s enjoying this even if he hadn’t already known that through her soul. “Keep doing as you’re told and you’ll be compensated, I promise.”

He will. He will, he will, even if the world is ending and darkness engulfs him, as long as she stays by his side and makes him feel that one special kind of high they can only achieve together. There is no question about it, and Maka reads that through the thrumming resonance in the background. There is a momentary pause in the game they’re playing as she reaches out and caresses his hair affectionately. He takes comfort in it, leaning into her touch, but then the moment is over.

Her bare center grinds against his dick, and it takes everything he has to hold on. The groan bubbling up in his throat comes out as a desperate, heady gasp, the sound barely contained - tonight, nothing more than that will come out of his mouth, not unless his meister allows it. His meister commanded him not to make any noise, not to move his limbs from the place she ordered them to stay in; it’s as effective as gagging and binding him in place. He doesn’t dare defy her orders. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare shift his arms and legs an inch from where she placed them, doesn’t dare get up and take off the blindfold - her one small mercy towards him, because even the most obedient and loyal of weapons would surely feel tempted - and pull her to him and take her, take her like he’s been yearning to since the night started forever ago.

But she won’t allow it, he knows. Soul needs to be a good weapon, she tells him, or he won’t get his prize. And if there’s one thing he knows in his messed up, black-blood infected brain, it’s that he wants his prize.

She is sliding over him, wet and ready and just perfect for him to enter, but she doesn’t allow his shaft to do any more than just slide between her nether lips, teasing until he can do nothing but choke for air. They kiss his feverish, engorged skin, whispering promises of release in between the slick sounds of her flesh meeting his.

The sounds she makes are driving him mad. She is moaning his name above him, her voice raspy and dry and needy, and he’s more than ready to let himself go--

Only, he can’t. His teeth grind together harshly as the familiar, unbearably hot quivers make his abdomen clench and his toes curl - but it doesn’t end. Maka is digging her nails in his chest to the point of drawing out blood; his skin feels too tight, like it’s about to burst at any second if this fallen angel standing above him doesn’t stop stimulating him soon. She leans down, hard nipples brushing against his chest as she drags her teeth across his throat and lets him hear all the delectable sounds that escape her mouth. It’s maddening, and Soul actually starts to believe that he won’t make it, but then she is arching against him as she screams his name to the heavens and the resonance flares explosively - and he knows, he knows that against all odds, he managed to survive this.

Maka lets herself fall on his chest, sweaty and flushed against hers as she heaves in long, much-needed lungfuls of air. Then, the pressure is off, and he nearly cums in her hand before she even finishes removing the ring. Her gentle hands reach for the blindfold, untying it; he blinks rapidly to adjust to the light. Maka’s cheeks are deep red with embarrassment and arousal.

“You can speak now,” she squeaks out, and his grin is wide.

“Oh, but I only have one thing to say,” he rasps as he pulls her under him, hands already roaming her silky skin. “My turn now.”


End file.
